Note: This piece was written in 2002. It's about a memorable but rather inconsequential story. I was reminded of it today, when I paused to think about the special value of unexpected private laughs.
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Unfortunately, my work has me sitting down indoors for too much of my time. So, it’s a pleasure to take a break and walk for some of my ordinary short errands.
Fresh air frequently improves my disposition. On such an autumnal, neighborhood walking excursion an incident provided a sudden private laugh. After picking up a sandwich to take home for lunch, I stopped off at the Fan Video. (After 31 years of doing business at 403 North Strawberry Street that video rental store closed in 2017.)
As it unfolded, what ensued felt like a scene in a movie. Perhaps that feeling was suggested to me by the fact I was in a video store looking over the rack of current releases. Then again, truth be told, it's not all that unusual for me to lapse into thinking I'm living in a movie. Reading the film notes on the box for Scorsese’s latest blood bath, I sensed movement behind me.
As I had been the only customer in the room, curiosity turned me toward the counter. On the other side of a wall-of-videos display rack, I caught sight of a man I recognized right away, even from the back. Having just come into the store, he purposely handed a plastic bag to one of the two female sales clerks behind the counter.
Being obscured by the maze of video boxes was a blessing, as this was a guy I always preferred to ignore ... when he would allow for that option. So, I returned my attention to the wall of movie selections displayed in front of me.
When I heard the little bells that meant the front door had opened, I glanced up just in time to see the aforementioned bad news character leaving the store.
As I breathed more deeply of the improved air, a woman behind the counter laughed as she dumped out the contents of that last customer’s bag. With comic exaggeration she acted as if she was troubled by the mystery of what might tumble out.
“What’s tha-at?” said the other woman, backing away and sounding playful.
My curiosity was aroused.
“Is that one ... is it wet?” asked the one holding the bag.
Naturally, I stepped closer. All I could see was regular black VHS video tape cassettes.
Yet the two young women, who I knew only in that video rental context, were going to some trouble to avoid touching what appeared to be ordinary stock from that store. A spray bottle of Windex was produced and I wondered if their Halloween spirit was getting the best of them. Then they brought me into their conspiracy with the sparkle of eye contact.
Both of them busied themselves spraying and wiping off the tapes. It was reminiscent of conspiratorial children removing cooties from objects touched by kids they want to mock.
Assuming there had to be something peculiar about the movies being sprayed -- like maybe they were kinky flicks, or who knows what? -- I stepped closer to see what the titles were. Both were mainstream films; one a crisp black comedy I had recently seen.
Playing along with what seemed to be a tongue-in-cheek tone I asked, “Do you have to wipe down all the tapes like that?” They laughed, apparently happy for my joining in.
No, they assured me their procedure was especially for the customer who had just left the building. They shuddered and laughed.
I laughed, too. Suddenly, it was clear to me the two of them were simply doing what bored service workers everywhere in the world do, to pass the time on the job. To amuse themselves, they were mocking a weird-vibes customer, a guy who they saw as deserving of ridicule.
Being in on their silly joke reminded me that the spontaneous sharing of unanticipated moments of levity are truly some of life’s treasures.
My stride for the walk home had a jaunty bounce. The pre-Halloween Fan District air seemed especially refreshing.
-- 30 --
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